


the pictures in your skin

by often_adamanta



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-02
Updated: 2006-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/often_adamanta/pseuds/often_adamanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta'd by the awesome violettefemme. Written for makealimb as part of the slashababy community.</p>
    </blockquote>





	the pictures in your skin

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the awesome violettefemme. Written for makealimb as part of the slashababy community.

Elijah sips from his drink and watches fondly as Dom sneaks up behind Viggo and tackles him, Billy laughing raucously from his seat on the couch. Seconds later, Viggo is sitting on a pile of tipsy, flailing hobbit, the quick wrestling match not hampering his conversation with Miranda in the slightest.

The plan had been to get drunk, but Elijah finds his mind too hyperactive to join in with his usual reckless abandonment. Not tonight. This is the final party: one last huzzah before filming ends, and they all go their separate ways.

He can’t believe that they’re going to be leaving this set, this country.

Orlando ambles in, wraps an arm around Elijah’s shoulder and gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

This dream.

“Let’s go,” Orli breathes into Elijah’s ear, making him squirm.

Elijah can’t deny him.

\-----

He laughs as Orli trips and falls face first on the bed when they finally make it to his room.

“You’re fucking drunk,” Elijah points out.

“Just a little,” Orli slurs, then rolls himself over and winks. “Get over here.”

Elijah kicks off his shoes and crawls across the bed. He straddles Orli’s hips, keeping him in place while stripping off his shirt. Elijah runs his hands along bare skin from waist to chest to shoulders and to the back of Orli’s skull.

“You’re so tense tonight,” Orli comments lazily, tugging fruitlessly at Elijah’s clothes. “Take off your shirt.”

Elijah whips the offending shirt off over his head, carelessly throwing it to the floor. “I thought tense was good,” Elijah answered, rolling his hips so that their erections were trapped together beneath his weight.

“Uhg… well. There’s tension…” Orli arched his hips, adding more pressure and moaning at the result. “And then there’s… oh, yeah… tension,” Orli finished, running one hand across Elijah’s forehead, careful, with concentration.

“You upset I didn’t drink tonight?” Elijah asks, purposely misunderstanding. “It’d just be two of us who couldn’t work buttons.” He suits actions to words and unfastens Orli’s fly. “And then where would we be?” Elijah’s hand reaches into the opening, tracing the inked sun before dropping lower.

“Not… oh god… quite what I meant.” Orli manages to gasp out, mesmerized by what Elijah’s fingers are doing to his cock.

Elijah’s hand retreats. “You really want to talk? Fine.” Elijah lifts so that they’re no longer touching, the air in the room cold to Orli after the heat of Elijah’s body. “Let’s talk.”

“No. Nononono.” Orli grabs Elijah and tries to pull him back where he belongs. “Don’t stop,” Orli begs, pouting and staring up at Elijah with dark eyes as he resists.

“Thought you wanted to talk?”

“Later,” Orli says, groaning in relief and pleasure when Elijah removes the rest of their clothes efficiently and climbs back over him.

Elijah bends and licks up Orli’s side, feeling muscles and ribs beneath his tongue. “What do you want?”

“I thought we were done talking.”

Elijah bites down.

Orli gasps out a giggle. “Mint ice cream.”

Elijah quirks an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Drunk,” he sighs in mock despair. He chases a taste along Orli’s chest until a nipple is beneath his mouth.

Orli’s hips flex as Elijah sucks and bites. “Wasn’t that your plan? Get me… nngh… liquored up and lure me to bed.”

“Hmm, a good plan. And it’s working so far. What next?” Elijah swirled his tongue over Orli’s collarbones.

“Fucking, of course. And I really think you should be in charge of that as I’m—”

Elijah bites down at the base of Orli’s throat, hard enough to leave a lasting imprint. Orli yells and arches into the pain and sharp teeth. He whimpers as Elijah stops and moves on along the column of his throat.

“—on bottom.”

Elijah snickers. “And drunk.”

“That too,” Orli agrees.

“You,” Elijah tells him, tracing the curve of his lips with a finger, “talk too much.”

They’re kissing hard and deep before Orli can argue.

Orli loves Elijah’s tongue thrusting in his mouth, Elijah’s weight pressing him down, Elijah’s hands drifting over his skin, but it’s not enough, not nearly. Orli wants everything.

“Please,” he gasps, fighting a losing battle with coherency. “Fuck me.”

“As you wish,” Elijah grins and snags the lube on the nightstand.

Orli spreads his legs wide, and Elijah coats a finger, circling the opening teasingly before pressing inside. It’s easy enough, and Orli’s begging for it breathlessly, so Elijah quickly adds another. His fingers twist and strain, wringing out sounds that make his cock twitch, make Orli shudder and arch. He continues with a third finger and more lube when he’s sure Orli’s lost in the pleasure, when he’s sure it’ll hurt as little as possible.

“Please,” Orli chokes out as he rides Elijah’s fingers. “Please… need you.”

Elijah can’t deny him: just lines up and eases in with a smooth motion that pushes the air from Orli’s lungs and takes all of Elijah’s self-control.

Orli’s legs wrap around Elijah’s waist, and Elijah’s arms slip beneath Orli to cup his shoulders and draw him closer.

Elijah begins to rock back and forth, steady and practiced, ignoring Orli’s cock trapped between them, trying to drive him crazy. The slow motion has Orli scrabbling beneath him, and when Orli is hyperventilating, he retrieves one hand, following the smooth line of muscle deliberately, making Orli remember and anticipate the feel of a lube slick hand on his cock.

He stops just short of his goal and plunges one finger into Orli’s navel, thumb caressing lower over sunbeams.

Orli comes, voice cracking on Elijah’s name.

Elijah pauses deep inside as Orli’s orgasm washes over them, not wanting to come, not wanting this to end.

Orli runs a hand down Elijah’s spine. “You okay?” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Elijah nods, tucks his head down into Orli’s shoulder, and continues fucking. Orli wraps long arms around him, folding him close and rolling with Elijah’s movement.

Elijah comes silently, face pressed against Orli’s skin.

He’s shaking so badly that Orli has to get them untangled by himself. Orli wrangles the sheet over their bodies, settling in.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong now?” Orli asks.

“Gonna remember in the morning if I do?” Elijah teases.

Orli smacks his ass. “Bastard.”

He spoons up against Elijah’s back, covering him. Elijah grabs a wrist and pulls Orli’s arms tighter.

Orli nuzzles into Elijah hair. “This’ll always be here, you know.”

“What?”

“This…” Orli runs his fingers unerringly over the design on Elijah’s hip. “This…” He takes Elijah’s hand in his larger one and places Elijah’s fingertips over the tattoo on the inside of his arm. He kisses the back of Elijah’s neck. “All of it.”

Elijah’s speechless. He raises Orli’s arm to his lips and kisses the skin. It all tastes the same beneath his mouth, but he knows the mark is there, will always be there.

He wraps himself in Orli’s arms again and relaxes, closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the dark, to his dreams.

\-----

First Poem for You

Kim Addonizio

I like to touch your tattoos in complete  
darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of  
where they are, know by heart the neat  
lines of lightning pulsing just above  
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue  
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent  
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you  
to me taking you until we’re spent  
and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss  
the pictures in your skin. They’ll last until  
you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists  
or turns to pain between us, they will still  
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.  
So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.  


**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at livejournal [here](http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/128971.html).


End file.
